


Please Stay As Long As You Need

by frankierose



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: (He Isnt A Zombie), Angst, Dark, Death, M/M, Temporary Character Death, The Fic Where Frank Iero Has Trauma And He Doesn't Want To Admit It, Therapist Jamia Nestor, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge Era, Trauma, Zombie Gerard Way (I Guess)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25477702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankierose/pseuds/frankierose
Summary: Gerard's been dead for a long time.So how is he standing right in front of Frank's face?-Based off a drabble!
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	1. this isnt real

It was the middle of a hot summer's day. Frank remembers that the mood of the day was surprisingly bright and happy feeling, considering the circumstances. It felt as if he was supposed to get over it, and spend summer like he usually would.

But Gerard had died. And it was his fault.

The funeral was miserable. It was swelteringly hot and awfully humid, everyone was either sobbing or just waiting to leave. In fact, some people just walked out. They were of no importance, simple acquaintances, the high school friends that you forget about as you age - but it still stung for Frank. How could anyone walk out of a funeral? Someone died, and they just brush it off as another inconvenience in their ignorant, dull lives?  
  
He hadn't stopped crying since the day. He cried every night up to the funeral. And even after the funeral, he still has the occasional breakdown.

When he walked up to say some words about Gerard, his eyes couldn't help but dart to the coffin. Gerard's cheeks were shallow, and he was strikingly pale - but he looked peaceful. As if he was just asleep and he'd wake up and it'd all be okay soon.  
  
Somehow, even in death, he was so beautiful. He would never stop being beautiful.

Tears pricked at the corners of Frank's eyes. Swallowing down a sob, he clears his throat and starts talking.

"Gerard was the most creative and genuine person that I have ever met," he begins, looking out into the small crowd in front of him. "And to be honest, I think I'm still in denial of the fact that he ever died. I don't want to think about it."  
  
He scans the crowd, making eye contact with Mikey, who shoots Frank a guilty look. Sitting next to Mikey is Ray, who nods him on.

"I know it's probably stupid. And I know, most of you don't care about Gee. Honestly, that's pretty fucking obvious, and-"

Ray glares at Frank, the sort of look that you'd get from your mom when you're getting on her nerves. Frank glares back, and continues, his grip on his flashcards tightening.  
  
"You know what? Fuck this. You're all shitty people for not taking this as serious as you should. He was my favorite person in the whole _fucking_ world and I- I don't- I can't-"

Frank's voice gets snagged on his esophagus, letting only a choked sob out. Hot tears stream down his cheeks and he holds his head in his hands. He feels someone patting his back and gripping his shoulder.

"Frankie, I think it's time to go."

Frank looks up to be met with Ray's kindhearted face, but instead of cooperating, he tugs his arms away. "No. I can't leave, Ray, you- you know that."

"Frank," Ray sighs, crossing his arms, "it's time to leave. Now."

Frank looks at Mikey as a plea for help, but all he does is shrug, as if to say, 'You know how he gets'.

And everything after that was a blur. Frank doesn't remember the drive home. The three of them didn't talk for the rest of the day. Why bother remembering anything around that time anyway? It was one of the most traumatic events in Frank's life. No one would want to remember that.

"Now I'm here," Frank mumbles.

"Alright. We'll have to work more on this next week, as our time is almost up," the woman in front of him says, fixing her notes.

They make quick eye contact, but even when Frank looks away, he can still feel Ms. Nestor's eyes burning into him.

"If you could remind me, how long ago did this happen?" Ms. Nestor asks.

"Around three years ago, now," Frank responds, rubbing his neck. "Can't believe it's been that long already."

"Three years is a long time for that amount of trauma to fester, Frank," Ms. Nestor says. "Why hadn't you visited a therapist sooner?"

There's a pause in their conversation as Frank hesitates to answer. He doesn't really know himself, exactly. He'd never really thought about it.

"I guess I was afraid. Afraid of being judged, afraid of being mocked or- or maybe," Frank pauses, taking a moment to think, "maybe I was embarrassed. Like, maybe I'm just overreacting. I mean, hell, the guys got over this so easily and- and he was literally Mikey's brother! I-"

"Frank," Ms. Nestor interrupts, once again making eye contact with the fragile man in front of her. "You were his partner. That bond is so much different than being a brother. I'm sure they were close, but losing the one you love, truly, with all your heart? It's gonna take some time to heal from that."

Another pause. The silence is awkward and weird and Frank feels stupid. So stupid.

"Okay," Ms. Nestor starts again, snapping Frank from his thoughts. "See you next Thursday?"

Frank responds with a nod, lifting himself up from his seat. "Thanks, Ms. Nestor."

"You can call me Jamia, silly," Jamia laughs, flipping a pen around in her hands. "I'm not your teacher - unless you want me to be. Is that weird? I think that's weird."

Frank giggles nervously, his cheeks getting warmer by the second. "Yeah, a little. Thanks, _Jamia_."

"Of course, Mr. Iero," Jamia nods, in a professional sort of manner, but her expression quickly turns to a grin.

Frank grins back, making his way to the exit of the bland room the both of them were in, "I'll see you later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!! so i realize its been a... Hot Minute huh...  
> just wanted to say that i will Probably not write more of come angels of the lord? i did not write it very well and honestly i had no idea where i wanted to go with it so. yeah. you get this!! (which frankly i think is a much more interesting idea anyway)  
> also sorry this is so short SJFDJF this is sort of meant to be.... a prologue? i guess?? just tuning you guys in on stuff lol  
> thank you for reading!!


	2. my heart, for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank visits Gerard, and has a run in with some friends.

"Hey, Gee."

It's the middle of a gloomy day - it looked as if the sky wanted to cry, the tears at the brink of flowing down her pale, sallow face, and yet she could not. It was like that. And Frank is visiting Gerard once again, as he does, every day. Every day, at the same time. Some days were brighter than others, but this day was very much not one of those days.  
It was, in fact, quite chilly. Which was odd, considering they were in the middle of July. So chilly, that Frank had to double up on layers, wearing his leather coat and a long sleeved shirt. Unusual.

Gerard's grave had plenty of gifts and flowers on it, most of them from Frank himself, as he likes to keep Gee company. Being dead would get pretty lonely, he imagines. But who would know but the dead themselves? Frank prefers to stay on the safe side, so he sticks around. Talks. As if Gerard was still there with him, holding his hand and giggling at his jokes. He missed his laugh, and his smile, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes.

Sometimes he gets chills while he's at the cemetery. He doesn't know if it's just the wind, or if maybe Gee really is with him. Either way, it's still comforting in some strange way. If it wasn't Gerard, Frank supposes that Mother Nature has his back. That's good. Maybe.

Frank settles down in front of Gerard's headstone, replacing a bouquet of flowers that have wilted with a new one and setting the wilted bouquet next to him.

"I missed you today. Actually, speaking of today," Frank hums, fidgeting with the dew-soaked grass next to him, "I had my first therapist appointment this morning. I think it went really well, all things considered, and my therapist, Jamia, was really sweet."

There is a pause. It's not silent, the trees are whispering and there are stray crows making themselves heard. Good for them.

"It would've been better if you were there with me, though," he continues. "I wish you were here. Why did you have to go so soon, Gerard?"

Frank rubs his eyes. They feel dry, heavy, and tired. "I wanna hear your voice again. All I have left of you are pictures and- and some videos, I guess. But it's not the same, it's never been the same."

He breathes. In and out. The cold, damp air pierces through his lungs, and it feels refreshing, like you've taken a swig of ice cold water on a hot day. It's nice - breezy, relaxing. Just him and Gerard against the world. Together.

He pats the ground, picks up the old flowers and hops to his feet.

"Love you, Gerard. I'll see you tomorrow," Frank waves goodbye to his lover's grave, and makes his way back to his car.

It's been a long day. Maybe things will be more eventful tomorrow.

  
  
The drive home is a long one. The sky had finally broken down, and her tears were running down the windshield in front of Frank. It was beautiful, in a way. The way the wipers cleaned the slate every now and then. But the tears wouldn't cease. These things are so much bigger than we can ever imagine. Don't you think that's interesting? Frank certainly thinks so.

So much so, that he had gotten lost in the idea of the universe and almost crashed his car. (don't dissociate and drive, kids!) Keyword, _almost._

The car's tires screech to a stop, just barely catching himself before he slams into passing traffic. Frank's heart is racing, he feels like he's going to be sick. Holy...

"Shit," He whispers, clutching his chest. He's okay. Not going to die. Nope. He's fine, he didn't and won't die, it's okay.

He would have continued his thoughts, but his train of thought was derailed as an abrupt, loud HONK cut through his brain. The light's green. Man, Frank's just making all of the mistakes today.

He groans, swearing at himself under his breath, and floors it. He doesn't know why he's driving so fast - he has no plans and figured he was just going to sit in his bedroom, smoking and eating shitty food and just wallowing in his funk. As he usually does. Maybe cry a bit? Ooh, or punch a hole in the wall and get his shit fucked up by his idiotic landlord! All very good ideas, but Frank was trying to not think about those sort of things right now. He just wants to get home, and go to sleep. Forever? Yeah, forever sounds good. Maybe he'd get to see Gerard again.

No time to think about that, though, because apparently, Frank's already home. Maybe the car drive wasn't as long as he thought.

Although, home is definitely not the word that Frank would use to describe his shitty apartment. It's hard to get into the building, and his apartment _definitely_ smelt like mold. Not fun or homely at all. But, it's what Frank has. And he was thankful for it.

He sighs, picking up the wilted bouquet and heading out into the now pouring rain. The weather picked up real fast, much to Frank's surprise. Not that that was a bad thing, rain was quite nice to him. But it made him curious. The news never said anything about rain today.

Kicking his car door closed, Frank heads up to the front of the building that is looming over him. Opening the door, he walks swiftly through the hall to make sure he doesn't get too much water on anything. He contemplates sprinting up the flights of stairs just to get it over with and to be able to rest for the night, but he would rather not crack his skull open.

So, he trudges up the stairs, making sure to focus on the noise his soggy Converse made, and count each step he took. It's a strangely grounding habit he'd picked up for no particular reason, but it was something he could manage and he knew it would happen at least once a day. Made his life seem a little less chaotic, in a sense.

Frank continues to stroll down the many hallways, paying attention to the numbers on the doors passing by him instead of looking in front of him. This would proceed to bite him in the ass, as he collides into someone who was also not paying attention to where they were going. Frank stumbles backward, the old flowers falling to the ground.

"Jesus, man, watch where you're going!" Frank hisses, bending down to pick up the bouquet. Idiot.

"Sorry, I- Wait. Frank?"

Frank freezes. He knows that stupid voice. "Mikey?"

"Oh, Frank! Hey man, we were looking for you!"

Uuuuuugh. Another stupid voice he knows, damnit. Frank sighs and straightens himself out to look at the men in front of him.

"And, why exactly, were you looking for me?" Frank asks, putting a hand on his hip.

"Ah, well-" Ray starts, but is quickly cut off by Mikey.

"We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! i'm alive :D i really love this chapter so i hope you enjoy!!


	3. mary, have mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank has a heated conversation with Ray and Mikey.

"About what?" Frank rolls his eyes. Can't believe either of them have the gall to visit him without warning like this.

"Gerard," Mikey mumbles.

Frank stares straight into Mikey. Gerard? Why do we have to talk about Gerard? Is he alive? The only person Frank wants to talk to about Gerard is Jamia.  
  
"Why?" Frank says through gritted teeth. He's clenching his jaw as hard as he possibly can just to make sure he doesn't say anything he'd regret. He does that a lot.

"Well," Ray pipes up, "we know tomorrow is an important day for you..."

Frank's eyebrows furrow in confusion. Tomorrow. What was happening tomorrow? Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

"What day is it today?" Frank asks, tilting his head to the side.

"July 12th, Frank," Mikey answers, a tinge of concern tied to his voice. "I would expect you to remember the date, especially now."

Oh. Frank didn't realize it was that soon.

See, July 12th was the day before Gerard died. The day before they went to a bar to celebrate Gerard getting a job at whatever fancy art place he was talking about on the drive. The day before the day that ruined Frank's life.

"Oh," Frank whispers, staring at nothing. "I must have just forgotten."

"Are you okay, Frank?" Ray asks, his voice also disgustingly concerned. Why do _they_ care?

They've never cared before. Why now? What's different this time, huh? Is Gerard just gonna suddenly pop out of his grave? Tomorrow is just going to be another day, there's no use getting so worked up about it anymore. Who cares.

"I'm _fine_ ," Frank growls, his hand squeezing the bouquet as hard as possible. "Today was just a busy day, okay?"

Ray and Mikey exchange worried glances, and Frank once again rolls his eyes. There's nothing for them to be worried about, Frank will be fine. He's gone years without their help, and he doesn't need it now!

"What do you want from me?" Frank groans, running his hand through his soggy hair.

"We want to make sure you don't do anything rash," Mikey states casually, as if Frank would do anything like that. As if they are actually concerned, which is fucking _hilarious,_ considering how they left him behind three years ago.

Frank chokes out a laugh, cause this is just so funny. Rain is pounding on the building now, you can hear the distant thunder. It's intense.

"How fucking funny is that?" Frank grins, grinding his teeth. "Where were you when I actually needed help, huh?"

"Don't start, Frank," Ray begins, but before he could get a word in, Frank cuts him off, a bang of thunder and a flash of lightning harmonizing with him.

"No, don't you 'don't start' me!" Frank shouts. His head hurts. "I have the right to be angry, you know! I'm finally taking care of myself and this is when you decide to step in?"

"Hey, be grateful we're talking to you at all, man!" Mikey retorts, his eyes burning straight into Frank. "I knew he was going to be like this, Ray, I told you we shouldn't have bothered!"

"Mikey-"

"Wow," Frank mutters. "What great fucking friends I have."

Frank is done. He throws the wilted flowers on the ground and storms off to his apartment, unlocking the door and slamming it behind him.

"Fucking christ," he whispers under his breath, pushing his palms against his eyes.

What was their _deal?_ Frank is fine, he's survived a lot worse than the anniversary of his boyfriend's death. Support would have been better when he was actually experiencing the event, but apparently they're too ignorant to understand that. He groans, flicks on the light and goes to get a drink.

He didn't need anyone's help anyways. Bending down to grab a beer stashed his kitchen cabinets, his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. Probably Ray, he can ignore it.

He pops the tab of the can and takes a quick swig from it. He needs a smoke, too - today's been way more stressful than Frank was hoping it would be. He just wants to go to bed.

Setting his beer down, he digs through his nightstand to find a lighter and a cig. Snatching them from the drawer, he sits on his bed, slips off his sneakers and lights the cigarette, taking a long drag and letting the smoke seep out of his mouth.

Fuck. He's so tired of everyone trying to pull this sort of shit on him. Gerard would never do this to Frank.

Gerard.

Frank's eyes wander over to a photo on his nightstand. This is going to make him cry, but whatever. He picks up the frame, taking a look at the picture.

It was of him and Gee - Frank was climbing on Gerard and being a general nuisance as usual, but Gee was still smiling and laughing. Gerard looks so adorable, his rosy cheeks and perfect grin. Frank wishes he could go back to then. 

_"Frank, get off of me!" Gerard giggles, struggling under the weight of his boyfriend crawling onto his back._

_"Why, you not strong enough to keep me up?" Frank teases, sticking his tongue out at Gerard._

_"No, I'm not strong enough, because you're super fucking heavy!" Gerard exclaims, his voice straining. "Wrap your arms around my neck if you want to live, dude."_

_Frank scoffs, but complies, and Gerard positions his arms underneath Frank's knees._

_"See? Now my spine won't break and you can be tall for once!" Gerard laughs his stupid adorable laugh again._

_"Oh, be quiet you asshole, you're only three inches taller than me," Frank huffs. "That's not that much."_

_"You're still cute though," Gerard grins, starting to walk again. "Cute and small. Very good for hugs."_

_"Oh my God, shut_ up _you two," Mikey groans._

_Frank and Gerard giggle, and Frank gives Gee a kiss on the cheek._

_"I'll love you as long as it annoys Mikey."_

_"So... forever?"_  
  
_"Yeah. Forever."_

A tear drips off Frank's chin and onto the photo he holds in his hands. He wipes it off, putting the photo back and stubbing out his cigarette, dragging it along the plasticky 'wood' of the nightstand. He sniffs and rubs his eyes.

Fuck, he really shouldn't have done that. He was already having a sucky day and that honestly just made things worse. Now he's going to be reminiscing about the past and how much better it was while he tries to sleep! Damnit.

He sighs, and lies down on his back, looking up at his ceiling. The rain outside is still thundering and the wind is squeaking through the small cracks in his window. It's comforting in a way.

Frank's brain feels so active, but his body is desperately yelling at him to rest. His eyes close and slowly, his brain shuts down as the pitter patter of the raindrops against his window lull him to sleep.

Frank slept like shit. He had lots of dreams, which, of course, he remembers none of them. His eyes hurt like absolute hell and his head is pounding. To make things worse, his phone was ringing.

He groans, leaning over to pick up his smartphone to see who was calling him this early. Squinting, he sees the name 'Ray' and immediately puts the phone back down. There is no way in _hell_ that Frank's going to talk to either of them right now. Although... he probably should check his voicemails, at least...

He sighs and picks his phone back up, scrolling through his phone to find wherever the voicemails are hidden. Once he finds them, he plays the very first one. It's from Ray - thank God.

"Hey man, I know last night was pretty rough," the recorded version of Ray's recognizable voice plays. Frank rolls his eyes. 'Pretty rough' was an understatement.

"But Mikey and I just wanted to make sure you're doing okay," there's a pause for a moment, "because, y'know, he feels sorry and... we really did have good intentions, even though it didn't seem like it at the time."

Frank stops and takes a moment to think. Maybe Ray is being genuine after all.

"The point is, we're sorry. And I know I hope that today is better for you," yet another pause, "even if you don't call me back. See you later, dude."

The voicemail ends. Hmm.

Frank shakes his head. Whatever, who cares. He's not going to bother right now. He needs to get ready to go to the cemetery so he can visit Gerard before Ray and Mikey try and fuck up his shit again.

He slips on his shoes, grabs his scarf, a letter he wrote the other day, quickly puts on his coat and heads out. His hair is a mess but no one is going to see him today anyway, so obviously there's no one for him to look nice for.

He rushes down the hallways, the flights of stairs, and makes his way out to his car. Maybe today will be a little better, since he'd get to see Gee at the start of the day instead of the middle of it. Yeah.

The drive is boring - the streets are still slick with rainwater from last night, and the sky is still a pale grey, clouds covering up the sun gaze. There's a soft haze of sprinkling, making it seem like the sky's still recovering after yesterday, like Frank himself.

Eventually, he makes it to the cemetery. For some reason, Frank's heart's racing. He doesn't know why he's feeling so anxious, there's nothing for him to be nervous about, right?

He gets out of his car, walks up to the cemetery gate and opens it. Walking into said cemetery, he notices that his footsteps are make squishing noises against the damp grass. It's kind of silly, but it makes him feel a little better. He's here, nothing to fear.

"Frankie!"

Wait.


	4. morning sickness, xyz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank sees, feels, and hears someone he hasn't for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> half of this chapter was definitely based off of the original drabble LJSDJFDJF but this is written way better so shhh

It's dark. And cold.

Dark and cold and soggy and it smells like dirt. It is also, very cramped, and frankly, Gerard is sort of freaking out. He does not like small dark spaces in which he can't see anything and it feels like he can't breathe.

But that's okay! He just has to find a way out, right?

He pushes up against whatever is above him - it's strangely cold? And smooth. And apparently very heavy. That, or something heavy is on top of it. Either way, he still has to get himself out of here, preferably fast because it certainly feels like whatever container he's in is getting smaller.

He pushes harder. Still no luck. Harder. He's gonna pull a muscle at this point. _Harder._ Wait, shit. Something fell in here with him.

He puts his arms back to his side, searching around for whatever fell from above as best as he can while he's laying down. Is that..?

Dirt. Dirt, why is there dirt above him? And why is there so much of it that it's keeping him from getting out? Was he... no, that's silly. There's no way.

He continues pushing the lid? Cover? And more dirt falls, like - a lot more dirt this time. It definitely got in his mouth.

Gerard's entire body recoils - somehow - he sputters and squeezes his eyes shut. This is great, this is perfect. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but he's pretty sure he definitely got buried alive. He groans, rubbing his eyes to get the dirt out of them, and resumes pushing.

More dirt falls. There's... lots of dirt now. Holy shit, he's going to drown in dirt. What a way to go! And he didn't even get to say goodbye to anyone. How lovely.

As he begins contemplating his soon to happen death, the lid pops open and even more dirt gets dumped into the coffin. He scrambles to dig his way through the dirt on top of him, shutting his eyes and keeping his mouth closed, as if he was swimming. Once he feels the cold air pierce his face, he realizes he's made it out. Maybe it wasn't as much dirt as it felt like.

He can see the sky. It's really, really bright. Like, really bright. He squints, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the new environment he was in.

Yeah, now that he's out, he definitely was one hundred percent buried alive. Great.

He struggles to get the rest of his body out from under the dirt, but eventually he's standing up. He's pretty sure that he can get out of the hole he was in though, as long as he's strong enough to lift himself up and out of it...

He reaches up and plants his hands on the ground above him. Grass! Okay, cool, grass is good. He pushes himself up, straining to pull himself over. He tries to use his legs to help him but all they do is carve out little divots in the dirt wall. He recomposes himself, and tries to crawl his way out by grabbing the grass.

His chest gets over, and then his stomach, and after that he's able to get his knees up and out of the hole. Finally.

It smells nice. Fresh. He pats himself down, brushing dirt and grass off of his clothes, and takes a moment to feel and experience everything happening around him.

Gerard scans his surroundings. He's in a cemetery - what did he expect - the sky is grey and sad, and there's a slight breeze. The ground under him feels soft, soggy, like it had rained the night before.

But before he could even ground himself, he hears the gate of the cemetery open. Curious, he makes his way to wherever said gate was, following the sound as it was closed and the gate made another clanking noise.

Is that?

"Frankie!"

Wait. Frank freezes mid-step. No, he has to be hearing things right?

"Hey! Hey, what are you doing here?"

He looks up in fear to see the very person he would never expect to see in a million years. He's wearing the same thing that he was wearing at the funeral - a black dress shirt, black jeans and a red tie. Okay, now he definitely has to be crazy, or hallucinating or something.

"Frankie?" Gerard's voice echoes throughout Frank's head. "What's that look for? I don't bite, you know."

"Who are you?" Frank blurts out, his open hand balling into a fist. His eyes are wide and he's staring straight into _his_ eyes. His eyes, which are sunken in but still as awe-inspiring as they were the last time he saw them in person.

Gerard tilts his head in confusion, smiling slightly. "What do you mean, 'who am I'? It's me."

"No, no, obviously you aren't... _you,"_ Frank giggles nervously, running his hand through his hair. Man, he's really gone insane hasn't he? "You have to be a figment of my imagination."

"I assure you I'm not fake," Gerard says, taking a step towards Frank.

"That sounds like something a hallucination would say!" Frank shouts, stumbling backwards. This isn't real. "Gerard, you died three years ago! I- you were bleeding to death in my arms and I cried over your dead body!"

"Three years? Frankie, what-"

"Don't you _dare_ call me that," Frank interrupts, his whole body trembling. "You can't be real! None of this is possible, I have to be dreaming, people don't just- rise from the dead without warning!"

Gerard is taken aback, his eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is has been turned into a frown. "Frank- I'm me, I promise. You can check if you want, see if my heart's still beating."

"No, no, just- tell me something Gerard would know," Frank mumbles, looking at Gerard's overall sunken facial features. He looks so pale, almost malnourished. But God, he's just so beautiful.

"You're saying that like I'm not myself," Gerard says. He sounds hurt, almost.

" _Gerard._ "

"Okay! Okay, uh, my name is Gerard Way, and I have a brother named Mikey Way. We almost started a band together," Gerard starts, rubbing his neck, "you, me, Mikey, and Ray..."

"Go on."

"We couldn't do that because I got my dream job, so music was sort of out of the question after that," he continues, twirling his hair around his finger. "Oh! You're my boyfriend! We got together on Halloween last year, which is also your birthday. Is that enough?"

Oh. He's definitely Gerard, and he _definitely_ missed out on the past three years. Frank sighs and nods, sitting down on the ground with his knees pulled up to his chest.

"What am I gonna tell Jamia?" Frank laughs quietly. He feels like he's going to break down and start sobbing.

"Jamia? Who's Jamia?" Gerard asks, sitting down next to Frank. "Is she..?"

"She's my _therapist,_ Gerard," Frank mumbles into his knees.

Gerard responds with a quiet 'oh' and they sit in silence for a few minutes.

"How are you alive, Gee?" Frank asks, his voice no louder than a whisper.

"I don't know, Frank. I don't remember dying," Gerard responds, looking down at his shoes and how they disturb the blades of grass. "All I remember is that we were driving together, and then I woke up here. In my literal deathbed, I guess?"

"What are we going to do?" Frank mumbles, fidgeting with his hands.

"I don't know," Gerard repeats. "Frank... Has it really been three years?"

Frank looks up at Gerard's face. It's heartbreaking - he looks so lost and upset and Frank can't even imagine what's going through Gerard's head right now.

"Yeah," Frank whispers. "Three long years."

There's another pause. Frank can't find what to say, and he's pretty sure if he tried to say anything, he'd start crying immediately.

"I'm sorry," Gerard chokes, and that's the moment when Frank realizes that Gerard is the first to start crying.

"Hey, hey, it's okay!" Frank insists, putting his arm around Gerard's shoulder and rubbing it. He's really cold? "What are you sorry for?"

"I shouldn't have died," Gerard sniffs, drying his eyes. "I shouldn't have left you alone to deal with all of this stuff. It's my fault."

"It's neither of our faults," Frank assures him, putting his head on Gerard's shoulder. "We got caught in a hit and run, Gerard. The car slammed into _us._ "

"But why did _I_ have to die?" Gerard mutters. "If you had died and I survived, I could've dealt with it! Things could've been better!"

"Don't lie to yourself," Frank says, his voice as soft as cotton. Sweet and safe. "If I had died, you would've done something you'd regret."

Gerard just stares at Frank. He's right, Gerard wasn't in a good place at all at that time. But he just wishes things could've gone differently.

"We'll be okay. I promise," Frank says, his voice low. He puts his hand over Gerard's and lets it rest there. It's once again, strikingly cold. It was cold out, but it was definitely not that cold.

Gerard sniffs and nods. "Okay."

"You wanna come back to my apartment?" Frank asks, standing up and holding his hand out for Gerard to take.

"Yeah. That sounds great," Gerard takes Frank's hand, and pulls himself up. "Hey, by the way, what were you holding in your hand?"

"Oh," Frank hums, stuffing the letter he was holding in his back pocket, "Nothing. Doesn't matter now."

Gerard just hums in response, as they walk over to Frank's car, hand in hand. Before they drive home though, Frank is surprised by a hug from Gerard.

"Wh-"

"I love you."

"I love you too?"

They're so close together,

but Frank's pretty sure Gerard isn't breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys!! so i realize its been a... Hot Minute huh...  
> just wanted to say that i will Probably not write more of come angels of the lord? i did not write it very well and honestly i had no idea where i wanted to go with it so. yeah. you get this!! (which frankly i think is a much more interesting idea anyway)  
> also sorry this is so short SJFDJF this is sort of meant to be.... a prologue? i guess?? just tuning you guys in on stuff lol  
> thank you for reading!!


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